


Morning

by bustoparadise



Series: The Jenny and The Ox [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, M/M, Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8256251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bustoparadise/pseuds/bustoparadise
Summary: Dorian and Iron Bull reconnect in the immediate aftermath of the failed Qunari invasion of the south.





	

Dorian startled awake, a great weight pressing the entire left side of his body. Iron Bull had rolled on top of him, the lummox.

 _The price we pay for sleeping in separate beds for so long._ They'd been away from each other for almost a year now.

It took Dorian a few moments to gather his strength. After fighting Qunari for twelve hours, he and the Bull had dropped into Dorian's bed in his room at the Winter Palace with little more than a kiss goodnight. Dorian still felt as if he could sleep for days. When he started squirming out from under his lover, Iron Bull shifted, murmuring unintelligibly—and pressing his erection into Dorian's hip.

 _Oh._ Dorian's pulse picked up.

Dorian had once had Iron Bull's consent to suck him off while he slept. But consent given once was just that. And, given recent events, the Bull might legitimately not be interested.

The image played before his mind's eye: Adder staggering out of the eluvian, clutching her glowing left arm, her face tight with agony. She'd looked to Iron Bull to do what needed to be done. Sera, sputtering curses in between tears, had prepped the potion with shaking hands, and Dorian, his flesh gone cold, had held her down.

The Iron Bull had swung his axe without hesitation and, when the magic of the potion had healed her arm, helped her up. That was quintessentially Iron Bull, wasn't it? The blade and blood one moment, the gentle hand the next.

 _It's perfectly natural for a man who's just killed countless former countrymen and cut the arm off a dear friend not to want sex._ Though Dorian hoped he did.

Before the news of Dorian's father's death, Dorian and Iron Bull had anticipated months or even years of togetherness in Dorian's role as ambassador to the south. An ambassador was expected to spend time in foreign lands. A magister couldn't—certainly not if he wanted to effect the kind of change Dorian envisioned.

Before that messenger had ripped his world apart, Dorian had daydreamed more about his reunion with the Bull than he'd ever admit. They'd start with a fast, bruising fuck in a quiet corner of the Winter Palace, followed by a breathtaking evening with ropes and pain and finally that beautiful stillness where they could talk and cuddle...

Instead, their stolen moments had been filled with arguments.

"I'll be your bodyguard. Krem can handle the Chargers—what the hell else have I been training him for?"

"Amatus, Tevinter would be Seheron all over again. The Magisterium are vipers, but I know where these snakes nest and when they strike. You'd have no such protection."

"Oh, so you think because I broke once, I'll break again? I can handle it, Dorian."

"And I couldn't forgive myself if you got hurt because of me, Bull."

They'd even kept the conversation going during Adder and Sera's impromptu wedding in between dances with the brides and each other. Dorian wished they'd taken their heads out of their asses long enough to truly enjoy the party. How often did one see Sera in a dress? How often did one see Adder truly relaxed and happy?

The rest of the past twelve hours had been battling Qunari and their fear as the Anchor's surges grew more frequent and painful. Dorian could use a distraction. Perhaps Iron Bull could, too.

"Get off me, you lout," Dorian grumbled, shaking the bulk pinning him down.

"Mmph? Aw, shit." Iron Bull yawned. "Sorry."

After he'd rolled off of Dorian and onto his back, Dorian brushed his hand against Bull's thigh, bracing for a dismissal. He got silence, broken moments later by an intrigued grunt.

Dorian's thumb began making light circles over the velvety head of Bull's cock. Even that small a motion sent a twinge down his palm and wrist. After gripping his staff all day, his hands couldn't handle anything strenuous. _Fellatio, then._ Dorian began stretching out his jaw, wincing as it cracked. Their reunion sex deserved better, but they couldn't change the facts. Dorian decided to label this a warm-up.

"Do you know what I thought about on the way here?" Dorian whispered. His hoarse throat forced him to cough before continuing. "Not my homeland. Not my ambassadorial duties. Not seeing my best friend again. All I could think about," he caressed the bundle of nerves beneath the head, "was your massive cock exploding inside me."

Iron Bull's breath grew ragged. Usually it took longer for him to show his responses. "Watchword?"

"Katoh."

"And it's—"

"For anything that makes me uncomfortable. You'll stop, no questions asked. I haven't forgotten."

Dorian kissed Iron Bull, sighing at the feel of scarred lips against his after so long. Iron Bull reached up and stroked his hair as he deepened the kiss, tongue tangling against Dorian's. The Bull loved kissing. This had surprised Dorian when they'd first started their liaisons, back when he'd still seen the brutish wanton instead of the full person. How stupid he'd been.

Dorian stroked his cheek, finding that the Bull had been too exhausted to take off his eyepatch before they'd collapsed in bed. Dorian had only had the ability to drop his staff and shuck off his outer armour. He broke the kiss to remove his undershirt, stained with sweat and old blood. Bull took advantage and kissed Dorian's throat and shoulders as Dorian stroked his thick neck muscles and his horns. Maker, _horns_. Dorian gulped. It had been too long.

If the Iron Bull had his way, they'd be kissing for hours. Dorian gave his lover a few more minutes, stroking his nipples in a way that made him grunt, before Dorian hissed, "Take me, you animal."

"You wake me up for sex and _I'm_ the animal?" But he nipped Dorian's bottom lip before moving to stand.

"Honestly, amatus, I initiated—it's only fair I do some of the work."

"Light the candles, then." Iron Bull stood, inhaling heavily. Dorian could only imagine how sore swinging a silverite axe for hours had made him. If Dorian thought his hands could survive massaging the Bull's muscles without cramping, he would have offered. _Tomorrow._

Dorian called upon his mana. Nothing answered.

"Need a box, big guy?" The Bull began rifling through his bags.

"Some quiet, if you're capable." Inhaling deeply, Dorian tried again, but couldn't even create a spark.

Something thumped at his feet. Huffing, Dorian touched it: a tinderbox. As if he needed it. He kept trying to summon his mana until he heard Iron Bull take off his pants. _No one can say I didn't try._ Both because he'd never used one before and because his palms were getting sweaty, he fumbled a few times before finally lighting the candle.

Iron Bull's cock was so hard it brushed his stomach. The dark grey head shone with moisture. Dorian's mouth went dry. Lust tried to seep through cracks in the wall of his exhaustion. He widened those cracks by recalling the metallic smell of Qunari sweat, the feel of those heavy balls in his mouth, the rope-like veins that bulged on the Bull's neck as he bellowed his pleasure.

Iron Bull was watching him intently, a bottle of oil in hand. Under that penetrating gaze, warmth shot down his spine, but the heat vanished by the time it reached his balls and cock. To help his sluggish cock, Dorian slipped out of his pants and underthings, reached down and started stroking. When his lover's eye narrowed, Dorian remembered that Bull hated Dorian pleasuring himself. He always had to be in charge.

"So I have to teach you about obedience all over again, huh?" Bull rolled his eye but smiled as he did so.

"You liked my training well enough the first time." Another stroke and, there, finally, that warm tug and tightening. Dorian stopped stroking and stretched out his aching fingers. His cock stayed at half-mast, groggy as a drunkard awoken from a nap. _I thought I had a few more years before this started._

Iron Bull approached, muscles suddenly going taut. "You think you deserve my cock, you little shit?"

Dorian froze, blinking. Before he could think, Bull had flipped him onto his stomach and pinned him to the bed. Muscles all along his lower back tightened but didn't spasm. Cool silk caressed his chest, stomach and cock, which reluctantly grew a bit harder at the sensation. Dorian twisted his head to look over his shoulder. The tall, glowering, grey figure became every enemy he'd fought that day; Dorian's startled nerves reached for mana that wasn't there before his brain caught up with his body.

Iron Bull stroked Dorian's ass then pinched his left buttock so hard Dorian gasped. "I shouldn't even let you come, you were such an asshole today. You—"

"Oh please—I can hardly control my father being assassinated."

Bull paused, lips parted. His hand dropped from Dorian's ass. "Uh, I just meant I saw you eyeing some of those Qunari fighters."

"I never—" Only then did Dorian realize that of course Bull knew he hadn't. Dorian had just dragged their ugly real life into the fun, sexy game his lover had been playing. _Oh, well bloody done._

"You think wanting to leave makes you bad?" Bull asked, expression serious.

Dorian rolled onto his back and sat up, staring into Bull's eye. "I worried you did."

"That's not it." Iron Bull sighed heavily, his massive shoulders drooping in a way that made Dorian's heart ache. "I just miss you so fucking much..."

"And I you, amatus." Dorian stroked Iron Bull's stubbled cheek and kissed him.

_Asking for him to wait for me isn't fair to him. He's suffered so much..._

The facts were clear and cold: Dorian couldn't abandon this opportunity to guide his country to a better way, and the Bull absolutely could not follow. They'd weathered a year apart, but they hadn't anticipated years more. The second sending crystal sitting in Dorian's pack would help, but it was no substitute for talking—and touching—face to face.

_If we part ways now, wouldn't this make things easier in the long run?_

Suddenly, Iron Bull pulled back, looking surprised.

"Er, amatus...?" Had his Ben-Hassrath lover felt some hesitation in Dorian's participation in the kiss and guessed his thoughts?

Apparently not—the Bull grinned as if he'd received a wonderful gift. He even laughed.

"You're slick, Dorian." He leaned in and hissed in Dorian's ear, "But I didn't tell you to do any of this. Now, _that_ is very, _very_ bad."

He flipped Dorian over again—this time a muscle near his spine twitched but mercifully stopped after a few moments—pressed him down against the silk sheets, and pinned his hands to his sides.

"I think you need a refresher. What to expect. Why I do this."

Iron Bull released his left hand to slap Dorian's ass. Dorian flinched as pain tingled across his skin. But this was only a warmup, and the pain faded in a heartbeat.

"When we're together, you have to listen." He slapped his right buttock next. Dorian flinched again, though, not being hurt or surprised, he didn't need to. Each flinch let him grind his cock ever so slightly into the mattress, which was suddenly quite important.

"You have to do what I say." Five slaps, right and left, getting harder now. "I always get you where you need to be." A lighter slap, followed by a wallop to his right buttock. Dorian whimpered at the blow and felt a twinge of embarrassment. It wasn't exactly a tough, masculine sound. "When you disobey me, it shows that you don't trust me to do that." Two short, stinging blows. "That you don't respect me."

This entire day had been insane: the Exalted Council, the wedding, the Qunari, the eluvians, the Atashi, Solas being Fen Harel, Adder losing her arm... So many things he wanted to forget. Dorian's world narrowed to stinging, throbbing, aching skin. To the breath hitching in his lungs. To his cock, fully hard, weeping for release.

The Bull's voice called to him from far away. "Dorian?"

Was he expected to speak? "Mm?"

Iron Bull moved beside Dorian, raised his chin up and looked into his eyes. He liked whatever he saw there and wet his lips. Dorian trembled, wanting so much to draw closer but staying still. He hadn't been told to move yet.

"Fucking finally," Iron Bull grumbled, but he was smiling.

Iron Bull lay down beside Dorian and stretched out on his back. "You want my cock so bad, suck me off while you get ready." He tossed the bottle of oil to Dorian. Lacing his hands behind his head, the Bull said, "Go to town, big guy."

 _A chance to show off. He knows me so well._ Dorian kissed up and down Iron Bull's shaft as he unstoppered the bottle of oil and poured it over his fingers. As he lapped up Iron Bull's pre-come, he reached back, his finger circling his hole. Small waves of heat jolted from Dorian's anus to his balls.

"Not like I want some perfect servant," the Bull murmured, voice slower. "You without the backtalk, well, it's not going to happen. You're a fighter, Dorian. You'll fight even what's good for you. At least, I hope I am."

Dorian hadn't been told to speak. He moistened his mouth and sucked powerfully at Iron Bull's cockhead while swirling his tongue around the slit. Hopefully that translated as 'You are.' At least it elicited a loud, ragged groan. His lover must be tired—normally it would take much more than this to affect him so powerfully.

Opening his jaw, Dorian inched his way down Iron Bull's cock. His jaw cracked and tension flared along the muscle. He slid his finger into his hole. Shivering, he moaned so Iron Bull would hear him and know how ready he was.

"Fuck." The Bull's voice was a thick, almost-unintelligible murmur. "You're good."

Bull didn't have to be so nice; they both knew he'd done better. Dorian took a few deep breaths and tried to relax his jaw. His lover's cock nudged the back of his throat; after a moment, he forced himself down. He had to stop fingering his hole to flex his aching wrist. Dorian was almost all the way to the base of his lover's cock when Iron Bull suddenly twitched. It was the type of twitch a person did when they were startled awake.

Dorian pulled his head off Iron Bull's cock to see his lover blinking and blushing. He savoured the moment; Iron Bull so rarely looked embarrassed.

"Shit. Sorry, kadan. More exhausted than I thought, I guess."

"I should have known something was off when you stopped talking."

"Welcome back," Iron Bull grumbled. "All right. One plowing, coming up."

He rolled Dorian gently onto his back, kissing him a few times before lubricating his fingers and rubbing them between his buttocks. When Dorian spread his legs further, the Bull slid his finger in. So thick, so large—Dorian sighed, quivering in anticipation of what was to come. As one hand worked Dorian open, Iron Bull smeared oil up and down his cock with the other. His cock gleamed like fresh-polished silver in the candle-light except for its darker grey head. Dorian gulped.

A second finger joined the first. They caressed and stroked for delicious, sweet moments before they spread slowly. Dorian's body took it easily. All he did was shudder once when Bull added a third finger, and that was from lust more than anything.

His index finger pressed right up against the centre of his pleasure. Over Dorian's moan, Iron Bull happily said, "You must've been using my going-away present, huh?" Said present was leather-wrapped phallus the same shape and girth as Iron Bull's cock.

"I hate that thing," Dorian murmured drunkenly.

"Huh?" Iron Bull didn't stop stroking that spot, but it was hard to take pleasure in the internal massage when he looked so hurt.

Surges of pleasure kept fracturing his thoughts. Through gritted teeth, he groaned, "It—ah!—it's not you. Nnngh."

Iron Bull's frown became a soft smile. "Awwww."

The Bull took forever to work him open. Each press of fingers brought a kiss or a compliment or a caress to his insides that left Dorian flushed and gasping. Finally, he removed his fingers and positioned his cock at Dorian's entrance.

As Iron Bull slid in, Dorian breathed deep. He tried to pay attention to everything: the slight burn of his inner muscles; the intense focus on Iron Bull's expression; the gasps and huffs of their breathing; the sweat soaking the sheets beneath Dorian's back; the shudder as Iron Bull worked his way in; the sensation of stretching and being filled; the thick thighs pressed against the backs of his; the glazed look in Iron Bull's seafoam green eye when he finally sank to the hilt.

That eye met Dorian's own after a moment. Smiling, he stroked Dorian's cheek while his other hand gripped his hip for leverage. The smell of oil and pre-come hit his nose as he nipped his lover's fingers. When Iron Bull seemed content to beam at him and cuddle, Dorian squeezed his ass muscles. Pleasure and discomfort washed over his body. They both twitched.

Iron Bull rolled his eye. "So impatient." But, mercifully, he gave Dorian what he needed.

This plowing, as the Bull called, was gentle compared to others they'd had over the years. Dorian felt a petty resentment toward the twelve hours of magic throwing and axe swinging before he tried to focus on the moment. It's not as if he could complain: though Bull didn't touch his cock, it twitched its approval. Nerves connecting ass to balls to cock caught fire.

Images and random thoughts flashed through Dorian's tired mind—earth being tilled, made ready for sowing, common dirt turned fruitful and given purpose.

He reached up and stroked Iron Bull's nipples, but Bull pulled his hands away, held one wrist over the other and gently pressed them down over Dorian's head. That made him remember rope and whips and clamps. Heat prickled his skin; breath caught in his throat; his balls drew up tight and aching. When he had enough air, he keened. Iron Bull smirked down at him.

More old memories stirred: Iron Bull loved hearing Dorian fall apart. "Bull, please...let me—I need to come, you stupid ox! Um, I mean, dear, darling ox. Kaffas—sorry, all right?"

His lover's cock seemed to grow inside of him. The tempo of his thrusts increased. Dorian kept talking, now saying syrupy words Iron Bull had learned not to share with the others.

Iron Bull reached down and pumped his thick, callused fingers up and down the shaft of Dorian's cock. Dorian's body seemed to have realized that the sooner the sex ended, the sooner Dorian could sleep; though Dorian bit his lower lip to block the frisson of pleasure, his cock spilled its load on the second pump.

At least Iron Bull couldn't claim better stamina. Though he usually rode out Dorian's orgasm before seeking his own, he grunted and erupted before Dorian had finished. Dorian shivered at the feel of load after load of semen spilling inside him. The Bull stayed inside him until his cock finally shrank.

Panting, Iron Bull pulled out and flopped onto his back. Dorian used the last of his strength to drag himself over to him and rest his head on his lover's chest. Semen smeared between their bodies and dripped from his ass, but he didn't care. He doubted he could move to clean himself off. He closed his eyes, inhaling Qunari sweat and hearing Iron Bull's heartbeat, and was content. Thoughts of arguments and Inquisitions and countries that needed saving could wait until morning.

"I can stay," Dorian murmured. "For this." He ran his thumb along the shaft of Iron Bull's flaccid, wet length.

Bull chuckled as he wrapped his arm around Dorian. "And now this thing is affecting the future of nations." He yawned heavily before adding, "Guess what I thought when I was twelve was right: my cock is the most important thing in the world."

Did Iron Bull expect him to believe the Qunari named 'liar' had ever been so single-minded? Dorian's eyes drifted closed as he replied, "You never thought that."

The last thing Dorian heard before he fell asleep was "No, I didn't."

* * *

Dorian woke up to sunlight trying to make its way through sapphire-blue velvet curtains covering the eastern windows. There was enough light to see Iron Bull stretching out first his left calf then, after a count of twenty, his right.

Dorian admired the curve of his ass beneath his pants. He wanted to bury his face between those cheeks.

"I am a _person_ , Dorian. My eye is up here." Strains of Adder's near-constant dry amusement infused Iron Bull's tone. "Also food and water is there," he waved to the bedside table, where silver cups and a covered tray sat, "and a bath is over here." To his left was a claw-foot porcelain tub. Heating runes along the golden rim glowed softly, keeping the water warm. Dorian caught a whiff of sandalwood oil—the Bull had remembered his bathing habits after all this time. It was then that he realized he wasn't covered in dried sweat or semen. His lover must have wiped him off while he slept.

Dorian reached for a cup, wincing as muscles along his arm, back and shoulders protested. The water within was lukewarm. With a flicker of mana, he summoned ice and chilled it nicely. Breakfast was buttered croissants, a bunch of green grapes and strong black tea.

As Dorian ate, he remembered what he'd said last night with the aftermath of climax obscuring higher thought: that he'd stay. That thoughtless comment must have cut Bull deeply. Of course, Dorian would have to leave for Tevinter. There was, however, a way to make that leaving more pleasant.

"Before I forget, I've a gift for you." His body did not want to stand. It wanted to stay lying down for a few more days. Dorian felt like an old man as he shuffled over to his pack and passed Iron Bull a cloth-wrapped bundle. He eagerly sat down on the bed.

Bull began opening it. When he could discern the shape, Dorian said, "It's not a necklace of the kadan, though the holder is modelled on it. I asked Adder what they looked like." Once he fully unwrapped it, Dorian said, "It's a sending crystal. Simply tap the rune, speak into it, and my own sending crystal will pick you up."

Iron Bull eyed the crystal warily. "Magic can do that?" Dorian knew calculations were flashing through Iron Bull's brilliant mind: what this meant for the war against the Qunari, what this meant for Tevinter, for other countries if they could get their hands on this kind of magic...

"The Tevinter Circles of Magi have been working on them for decades. I was fortunate to get ahold of a few prototypes for testing. They don't seem to work well near lyrium or enchanted objects, but they do work."

"Not to be ungrateful, but you just gave me crazy _untested_ magical crap to wear against my chest." Iron Bull sat down on the bed beside Dorian.

"Are we slaves to tradition now? You could just keep it in your pack. I'd hate for something this valuable to be smashed by a maul or burned up by demon fire."

Iron Bull examined the leather thong. "Hey, dawnstone." Iron Bull had commented on his love of dawnstone in Dorian's hearing years ago. "Awww, you remembered." Beaming, he slung his arm around Dorian's shoulders and pulled him in close.

Dorian kissed Iron Bull's shoulder then rested his cheek against it, inhaling a hint of Qunari sweat. "It's a combination of both our cultures—dragon-tooth-shaped holder outside and thaumaturgical wonder inside. Tevinter and Qunari together. I thought it fitting."

They held each other for a time, relaxed and warm, until Bull's smile disappeared. A gale of a sigh burst from his lungs. "You know the funny thing? I actually thought you and me would be easy. You'd think life would've taught me that people like us don't get easy, but...no. I was picking out decorations for our room together at Skyhold."

"Oh, amatus." Dorian sat on his lap, kissing his lips briefly before continuing. "And I would've loved to argue with you over those decorations."

Iron Bull snorted, amused despite his furrowed brow.

Dorian rested his forehead against the Bull's. "There are border-towns in Tevinter where Tal-Vashoth aren't unheard of. I think I have a sick auntie in whatever town you can visit soonest."

"And I'll reach out to my merc contacts," Iron Bull murmured, kissing his cheek. "If you can't have me as a bodyguard, I'll damn well get you the best. We also need to set up a check-in time on this sending crystal, so I'll know if something's—"

"Oi!" came Sera's voice at their door. "Buckles is finally awake and she's got some big talk for the exalted nobs. She'd love to look out at the crowd and see some mates."

Iron Bull and Dorian shared a look. Sera sounded serious. Dorian could guess what this was about: the end of the Inquisition. Unless Adder had changed drastically since he'd been away, he couldn't imagine her keeping the organization.

"So," she continued, "Bull, pull out, untie Dorian, clean yourselves off. Or don't wash up. _I_ didn't." He could just picture her waggling her eyebrows lewdly.

"Is that all you think we do?" Iron Bull said. "We're actually snuggling right now because Dorian is adorable."

Over Sera's giggle, Dorian said, "This is another reason you can't come with me: you are terrible for my reputation."

"Pretty shite reputation if you can't cuddle with a lover you ain't seen in ages. Don't let that place make you into a prick, Dorian."

Sera choosing life advice over playful banter? Last night had shaken her terribly. "I promise."

"You know she wants you two there special. There's mates and then there's best mates. So see you soon, yeah?" Her light footsteps retreated.

With a sigh, Dorian got off Iron Bull and went find some clean clothes. "Just once, I wish the biggest event in my life could be...oh, I don't know, firing my cook."

"No you don't."

"Amatus, if you point out every instance of a white lie, we're going to have a very short relationship."

He didn't get far into selecting his outfit before Iron Bull pulled him into a kiss. "Understood, kadan."


End file.
